


Nature, Red in Tooth and Claw

by MalikaiFlame



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Original Male Characer, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beta Dean Winchester, Emotional Manipulation, Forced Orgasm, Forced Submission, Handcuffs, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), I'm still not sure how far the non-con will go yet, Innocent Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Manhandling, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Power Imbalance, Protective Dean Winchester, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel (Supernatural), non-con isn't between Dean and Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikaiFlame/pseuds/MalikaiFlame
Summary: Dean, Sam, and Cas go to a small town in Missouri in an attempt to connect a series of related murders. Unfortunately, Cas recently presented as an Omega. Dean is on high alert, wanting to watch out for Cas, but the chief of police, an Alpha, takes a specific interest in the angel.AKA: Cas gets fucked over (but not as bad as he was in the finale.)
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Male Character(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else go through the painful process of slowly clawing your way out of the Supernatural hellhole you were in in high school, only plummet head-first back into it years later after deciding to watch that joke of a finale as a final hoorah, the obsession rekindling to the point where you're compelled to write an entire, multi-chapter fic? No? Just me then?
> 
> ANYWAYS... This is my first time sharing an A/B/O fic! I've written some before, but never published.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘So careful of the type?’ but no.  
> From scarped cliff and quarried stone  
> She cries, ‘A thousand types are gone:  
> I care for nothing, all shall go.

Dean gripped the steering wheel harder, his knuckles becoming white as he tried to keep himself from going over the edge. He risked a glance through the mirror, catching Cas’ frustrated face as he did. The angel glared at him through it.

“I said I’m fine.”

“And I said you’re not, Cas.”

Dean looked forward again, knowing it would be easier to hold firm to his position that way. Pulling up opposite the police station, the three of them watched carefully, logging the ins and outs of the building as they approached, not that there was much action to pay attention to. The town was sparse, located just off the interstate. Small, quaintly painted homes were scattered throughout the single main road, as if they were weeds that accidentally took root, growing where they happened to land. Without forethought or intention, but rather appearing as they needed to, wherever there was space. Which there clearly seemed to be a lot of.

They had only just arrived in Vernaly, Missouri, but had already been graced with the local sights to see. It seemed like everything worth seeing was about an hour out. But, who could pass up hamburgers, while they were still alive and kicking… and while they still smelled? The houses with chicken coops in the front lawns and old tires swinging from trees? There was even a nice Casey’s, which seemed about the most hopping place in town. And who could forget good ‘ol Joseph O. Sheeley? Good ‘ol J.O.? The Confederate solider had himself a statue right in the middle of town. Kind of the local celebrity. Dean felt honored. 

Among the sea of pickup trucks, the 1967 Chevy Impala stood out, the only commonality between the modes of transportation being the growls the cars made as they turned their engines, which meant the three of them earned a rubbernecking from every passerby. But it was easy to forget the stares. How could they not? By god, they were in the Apple Capital of Missouri! Quite the honeymoon destination.

The angel took a deep breath in the back seat of the Impala, turning to stare out of the window indignantly; his face stoic. The sharp anger in his eyes was the only thing that gave him away. His body stayed still but, to Dean’s trained eye, he could see the clear edge of frustration pulsating off of his calm demeanor.

Dean jerked the car into park, and Sam cleared his throat obnoxiously. The message was abundantly obvious. Dean returned the sound with a glare, squinting his eyes as Sam threw the look right back at him, then gestured to Cas. His message was clear.  _ Be nice. _

“And what? You think Sam just leaves during his ruts because he wants to play hooky?” Dean snapped.

Sam blinked incredulously.  _ Are you serious? _

“I find your lack of confidence insulting. It’s not like I’m suddenly made of glass.” Cas rebutteled, as if chastising a child.

“Yeah. Cas, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but about this you kinda are.” Dean snapped back, as if  _ he _ were chastising a child. “ You don’t want to mess around with this.”

Of course Cas was an Omega. Well… not  _ Cas _ , but his vessel must have been one. There must have been a delay, because the angel had been gracing them with his company for months now, without any hint of a secondary gender. Perhaps it was because of Cas’… angelic nature. 

And in all honesty, maybe he was more immune to the persuasion of his recently discovered secondary gender, but Dean wasn’t ready to take that chance. To engage in that experiment. Especially not in a small town where they had few nearby allies, and especially not in a hot bed of Alpha activity like a police station. They were always skeevy. In fact, even as a Beta, Dean could still smell the dense intermingling of Alpha scents coming from the building.

And it didn’t help that the angel had a confidence and boldness that didn't mesh with the discovery very well.

“I know that, Dean.”

“No, Cas, you don’t.”

“I’ve watched this world for millennia. I’m not naive to the realities and temptations of an Omega experience.” Cas pressed. “And I think you forget that I am an angel of the Lord. I could have an advantage with my ability to control such temptations.”

“Exactly. ‘ _ Could.’” _ Dean responded gravely. “Watching and living it are two different beasts. Angel or not, I can promise you that.”

The car became quiet as the words settled in, the hostile silence stifling, until Dean sighed, breaking the unspoken battle of wills. He took a deep breath, trying to level himself out before continuing.

“You just gotta trust me on this one. At least until we get a feel for your heat schedule.”

Cas refused to look at him. Instead he trained his eyes on a small fountain, conveniently in the direction exactly opposite of Dean.

Cas’ silence made his anger flushed to his cheeks. Much more aggressive than necessary, Dean unbuckled his seatbelt and threw the driver-side door open, turning sharply to look back at Cas through the passenger window. “Just stay in the car.”

“I’m not a dog, Dean.”

Cas’ anger cut through him, but Dean would refuse to admit it, even to himself. So instead, anger surged in its place, being easier to feel than hurt. So he lashed out.

“Bite me.” 

And he slammed the car door behind him.

Dean crossed the street with purpose, refusing to look back. Sam, predictably, caught up to him as he was already halfway up the concrete steps of the police station, most likely lagging behind because of some failed damage control he tried to pull over on Cas.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on him?”

“Sammy, you about throw a temper tantrum any time I go by myself. As a  _ Beta _ .” Dean shot his brother a look. “Are you really trying to tell me you’d be okay with Cas, who’s apparently an  _ Omega _ , come in with us right now?”

Sam quieted at that. “Listen. I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m just saying that you could be a little nicer about it.”

Dean threw the door open. “That was nice. I didn’t drop him off at the motel first, did I?

The police station was… quiet. Right away, Dean could tell there wasn’t too much to see. The walls were covered in a dingy yellow hue, which was clearly in need of a touch up, but the department’s crest, clear as day, hung on the wall opposite the entrance. Pristine and well cared for. Clearly a symbol of pride. A humble coffee machine stood in the open, next to a fridge plugged in next to the cords that went to a computer on one of the three desks in the joint. Needless to say, the inside didn’t inspire much confidence, which is saying a lot, because Dean already had his doubts when seeing the outside. The atmosphere was mildly lackluster, the typical hustle and bustle of station life lost on the town of 900.

What this station was not missing, however, was a team of Alphas. One officer sat at his desk, leaning back into the seat, watching the brothers carefully as they entered, suave and radiating arrogance. Another Alpha turned his attention towards them, a smirk on his face, as he focused in on Dean, looking him up and down with a gleam of incredulous disbelief in his eyes. It was clear the man thought Dean was funny. 

Dean knew the look, and he knew what the man was thinking. Dean was a far cry from a stranger to what people thought about him. No one would have put their money on Dean’s secondary gender. In fact, all bets would have been lost. Dean had been raised, _trained_ rather, to be an Alpha from the day he was born. It almost seemed like a cruel twist of fate when Sam, the one _he_ had been drilled to protect, turned out to be the Alpha. All that had managed to do was thrust responsibilities upon Sam, which he was ill-prepared to take on, and leave Dean unattended to work out his automatic, but now deemed unnecessary, impulse to watch out for his little brother. He had had grown up fast, so that his shoulders could better bear the weight of his father’s expectations. 

Presenting as a Beta meant an overnight loss of confidence and a lifetime seat on the bench. Presenting as a Beta meant a life of constantly needing to prove his worth. A life of chasing after the need to meet people’s low expectations, and surpass them to the point where there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt. 

So, safe to say, Dean  _ really _ wasn’t in the mood.

“Hey, boss!” the smirking man shouted, lazily turning towards the back office. Dean quickly steeled his gaze, not wanting a single chink in his armor. He forced his frustration down, with everything, with _ Cas _ , even though it still prickled underneath the skin. It was game time.

Dean about rolled his eyes when the chief stepped out of his office. The man was, predictably, built like a tank. Despite the loose uniform, the man radiated power, with assorted weapons hanging like ornaments off his belt, as if he wanted everyone to know their place when they saw him. And, although the man wasn’t nearly as obvious with his thoughts as his coworkers, Dean still didn’t like the feel of the guy.

The man brought a toothy smile to his face, gesturing them through the door. “Come on in, boys. Y’all got here fast.”

Dean gave the elevator-eyed officer from before a quick, fake smile, following Sam towards the back office, but the feeling of the man’s gaze boring into his back wasn’t lost on him.

“So, what can I do for you?” the chief asked, choosing to pat Dean on the shoulder over the handshake he had afforded Sam. Dean’s cheeks flushed at the gesture, knowing it was motivated by him seeing Dean differently than Sam, who was an equal. “Can’t say we’ve seen too many feds around these parts.”

“Agents Young and Johnson.” Sam cleared his throat, pulling out his badge. Dean followed suit, letting the chief inspect them. He nodded, taking just a moment longer to look over Dean’s, as if trying to find an issue with it, before handing it back. Sam continued as if he didn’t notice, “My partner and I have been working our way around the area, trying to see if we can get a lead on a series of similar deaths in a neighboring town.”

“Ah yes.” the chief sighed, “Those poor people… I’m sure you can imagine that word like that travels fast in small towns. Grow pretty close when there aren’t too many of you around.”

“That’s exactly why we’ve been trying to get a hold of law enforcement in towns like yours.” Sam said, obviously going down the route of flattering the man. “Y’all have always been a tremendous help in past investigations.”

The chief took the compliment in stride. “We would love to be again.” 

The chief continued to look at Sam, as if he were the only one in the room. Dean might as well have been a part of the sunbleached wallpaper, all the attention the chief was giving him. It started to burrow under his skin. It wasn’t that the chief was pointedly ignoring him. It was that he didn’t care enough to consider addressing him further. Which was worse.

“Well, Chief Caddel…” Dean flicked the nameplate on the table.  _ Fucking look at me _ . “Truth is, one of the victims was found a few miles outside of your jurisdiction.”

The man’s gaze lingered on Dean for a moment, then the offending limb, and Dean thought about leaving his hand there, smudging the gold on the man’s plaque. But he thought better of it, pulling his arm back to his side. They did still need information from him.

The chief spoke carefully. “I am well aware.” 

“Got any ideas why that might be?”

The chief smiled coldly, but Dean could see the fire behind his eyes. 

“It must’ve been hard for you, getting through the Academy.” Chief Caddel prodded. “Sure there were a lot of deserving men who got passed up because of the diversity initiative.”

Dean matched the smile, his voice growing cold. “Wasn’t too hard actually, when everyone else was too busy running around chasing tail, trying to get their rocks off.”

The air became dense with the heightening of the chief’s scent. Hot tar. Dean tried not to wrinkle his nose in disgust, although the smell was staggering.

Sam stiffened, positioning himself slightly in front of his brother. “Dean…” 

Shifting his gaze towards Sam, the chief’s demeanor loosened slightly, as if trying to reign himself back in. He rolled his neck, working the feeling over his shoulders as he brought a softer expression to his face. 

“No. I was wrong to assume.” Caddel grinned, the smile never fully reaching his eyes, “I’m sure you’re great at what you do.”

Sam’s own scent began to heighten, the familiar scent of leather pushing back against the chief’s, “He is.”

No one moved or spoke, the silence becoming palpable as all parties tried to decide what was next. All Dean knew was that it wasn’t going to be him offering any olive branch.

“To answer your question,  _ Agent _ ,” Chief Caddel began, deciding to let go of the battle of the wills, “I do not know why that girl was found so close to Vernaly. She isn’t local, I can tell you that. There would be a lot more buzz around town if she had been.”

“She an Omega as well?” Dean asked gruffly, trying to hide that the question was closer to home than the other. He had seen the photos. The permanent looks of terror on their faces. The mutilation. Cas flashed into his mind. How dangerous the world had become for him, overnight. But only for a moment. He didn’t have time to think like that.

The chief eyed Dean, almost as if he knew, before continuing. “It’s not like it’s commonplace for an Alpha, or many Betas, to die under such… unfortunate circumstances.”” He gave Dean a nod, and it felt nothing but condescending. “We’re currently waiting on our forensic pathologist to come back with the official report. I’m sure the girl’s secondary gender can be confirmed then.”

“Here’s my card.” Sam started, passing the small rectangle over. “Call us once the report comes in?”

The chief nodded. “Absolutely.”

Sam held out his hand, which the chief took firmly. “Thank you for your time.”

After Sam, Chief Caddel held out his hand to Dean. Although better than the shoulder pat from earlier, Dean still didn’t like the idea of touching the guy. But he met him halfway. The contact sent electricity up his arm, and Dean wanted to pull away, but he didn’t, not even when the man held on just a second longer than Dean felt appropriate. Dean locked with his eyes, Sam watching carefully behind him.

Once out of earshot, walking down the concrete steps back to the car, Dean let Sam have it.

“I didn’t need you to Alpha-out in there, Sam. I’m not a damsel in distress and, believe it or not, I am capable of defending myself.”

Sam seemed just as eager to voice his thoughts, not blinking an eye at Dean’s outburst.

“I never said you weren’t Dean, but why do you always have to be so antagonistic?” Sam chastised. “There’s no reason to egg the guy on like that. It just makes our job harder.”

Cas looked up at the sound of their voices as they approached, and Dean didn’t know what to think. A part of him had wished Cas would break the rules, had gotten out and left in protest. A piece of Dean would have been relieved if he had. It was spiteful. It was petty. It’s what Dean would have done. It made sense. But no, Cas was sitting in the backseat, right where Dean left him, as if the option to think for himself hadn’t occurred to him, and Dean hated it. This is why Cas scared the hell out of him.

_ Stupid bastard. _

Dean pulled open the driver side door, waiting for Sam to do the same on his side before continuing. “Why is it suddenly my job to coddle the fragile egos of sex-crazed Alphas who circle jerk to one another’s prowess?” 

Sam scoffed, making Dean tag on.

“No offense.”

Sam made a face, feigning confusion. “Oh no, Dean. How could that be taken offensively?”

Cas leaned over the seat as the brothers settled in, completely forgetting about the concept of personal space again. Dean swallowed as his gaze fell on the small piece of bare skin sticking out from underneath his collared dress-shirt. The angel was already beginning to smell more and more like an Omega, the gentle combination of some flowery shit and soil wafting towards Dean as he inched closer, completely oblivious. He could see Sam shifting uncomfortably too, trying to hide the fact that he was holding his breath as he looked out the window.

“So, was the girl one of the victims?”

“Dammit, Cas.” Dean growled. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you about personal space before you start to figure it out.”

Cas slowly sat back, but still looked at Dean expectantly, waiting for him to continue. Sam flashed Dean a quick smile of appreciation, the gravity of the moment completely lost on the angel.

“And most likely, Cas. The autopsy report hasn’t come in yet, so we’re kinda on standby until it does.”

Cas squinted his eyes. “So, what do we do until then?”

Sam opened the glove compartment, shuffling through the fake IDs and assorted weapons until he pulled out their map. “We go to the motel.”


	2. Chapter 2

_ Dean watched as the blood from his busted knuckles combined with the cold water running over them, giving the water a faded, pink tint as it swirled down the drain. A part of him felt a small sliver of satisfaction as he scrubbed harshly over his wounds, taking out his frustration on his hands. The sharp spikes of pain intermingled with the dull ache of bruised skin, created some sort of mild form of self-flagellation, which felt more than appropriate, given his performance tonight. _

_ It had been a run-of-the-mill case. Absolutely standard and unremarkable in every way. It should’ve been easy. _

_ He had slipped up. Big. _

_ And it was pissing him off. _

_ A  _ ghost _. When’s the last time a fucking  _ ghost _ got the jump on him? _

_ Absolute amateur hour. Dean had been ganking ghosts like that before his balls dropped. _

_ A quiet flap of wings, and Dean knew that his silent guardian had shown up. Dean didn’t bother to turn around, opting instead to reach for the towel just to the right of the sink, stealing a quick glance into the mirror to see Cas standing in the doorframe of the bathroom, his face unreadable. _

_ “You’re upset.” _

_ Skipping the pleasantries. Charming, as always. _

_ Dean threw the towel into the sink, turning to face the angel. “Very insightful, Cas.” _

_ Cas eyed Dean, his gaze unwavering as he moved out of the way so Dean could slide past him. Beelining towards his bed, Dean began to busy himself by moving his array of supernatural weaponry around, unloading and reloading a clip for no reason other than to work out some of his energy. Cas waited a moment longer, and Dean could almost see the gears turning in the angel’s mind, watching closely as he worked through processing Dean’s behavior. _

_ “Where’s Sam?” _

_ “Went to get food.”  _ Because he has the good sense to leave me alone.  _ Dean thought to himself, leaving the second half unsaid. _

_ Cas didn’t seem to get the hint, though. _

_ “You should relax.” _

_ “Oh yeah, Cas.” Dean laughed humorlessly, “All I need is a bath bomb and a face mask and I’ll be fucking fantastic.” _

_ Cas seemed unphased, whether because he didn’t understand the sarcasm, or he didn’t care to engage in Dean’s childish outburst, Dean wasn’t certain. _

_ “You’re alright, though?” Cas flicked a quick glance at Dean’s bloodied hands. “Physically?” _

_ The concern caught Dean off guard and he felt flustered, making a wave of defensiveness surge in its stead. The angel was saved from another halfhearted insult when the door swung open, Sam carrying two take-out bags. _

_ “Oh.” Sam smiled, recovering quickly from his surprise. “Hey, Cas! You staying?” _

_ “No.” Cas looked at Dean. “I have something I need to do.” _

_ Dean wanted Cas to leave so that he would have at least a little bit of privacy to ride out his pity party, but there was also a quieter, yet persuasive, part that wanted the angel to stay. But Dean dismissed it quickly. It had barely lasted a moment, anyways. _

_ Once Cas pulled his vanishing act, Dean tore through the bacon burger Sam had picked up for him, and Dean had to begrudgingly admit that the food did help his attitude. The $5 meal didn’t pass, however, without him making a quick and easy jab at his brother’s salad. Sam just gave him a gentle glare, with a comment about how unoriginal Dean was being, but still taking the insult in stride. Sam had no one but himself to blame. It was essentially a routine at this point. As long as he was eating ridiculous shit, Dean would say something about it. _

_ Dinner was followed by dessert. If dessert was a soda from the vending machine outside their motel room. Sam must have snuck away to take a quick shower, because when Dean returned, he could hear the quiet pattering of the water hitting the opposite wall. Taking another swing of his drink, he made his way over to the bed. _

_ To find something laying on it that wasn’t there before. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Dean walked over to his bed, soon realizing he was looking at a bath bomb. An incredulous scoff snuck from Dean as he examined the other object. A damn face mask. In disbelief, he quietly picked up the lavender colored bath bomb, rolling it around in his hand. _

_ Cas. _

_ After turning to see if Sam would see him, and finding the coast was clear, Dean brought it up to his face and snuck a small whiff. It wasn’t half bad. _

_ “Dumbass.” Dean mumbled to himself, realizing, in a brief moment of shock that he quickly smothered, how much affection stirred within him as he said it. _

_ \------- _

What did it say about a person, that motel rooms held the comfort of a home? 

Flying across country, his father had a habit of only stopping to get a few hours of sleep, and not even every night. John Winchester seemed to be part man, part machine, fully fueled by his desire to destroy anything non-human, his diary a private hitlist. Dean would just as soon call the Impala his home, all the nights he spent in it. Since his early years, Dean would get the smallest semblance of familiarity and comfort when his father would pull up into a parking spot of the cheapest, most convenient motel that was gently illuminated by the tacky signs, knowing he was in for a night of cable television and a warm shower. Under the mild hum of fluorescent lights, the dingy doors sparked a stirring of excitement that would linger in his gut as he would wait for his father to finish fighting with the lock to reveal their home for the night.

And although an adult, Dean still looked forward to the evenings where he was able to crash, meet the gentle, although typically musty embrace of his own cheap motel beds. Although all motels were different, all motel rooms were the same. A bathroom, shower, bed, television, table, a fast food restaurant within an arm’s reach… There’s literally nothing else a person could need. Anything more than that was just excessive, and Dean liked knowing that he only had what he needed. It made him more mobile. Less committed.

True to form, Vernaly was no different. Although, seeing the motel in broad daylight wasn’t doing the joint many favors. Because, while the glow of neon lights cast a harsh hue, they hide the flaws. In the harsh light of day, however, the chipped paint and rusted lining were highlighted in full detail. 

No use beating around the bush. Vernaly’s motel looked  _ rough _ .

Upon entering their room, Dean threw his duffle bag onto the bed nearest the window, effectively claiming his spot. It only mildly concerned him when the bag landed on the mattress rather solidly. Not much bounce. With quiet resignation, Dean could already feel the back pain he would have in the morning.

Cas and Sam followed in behind him, Cas looking around unimpressed, scanning the room with a studious eye while Sam put his laptop on the small wooden table next to the door, already whipping it open with a thought on his mind.

And that’s how the next few hours passed, with a brief intermission for lunch. It was Dean’s job to get it. He volunteered to be. He could tell that the angel was still upset about being left behind in the car, judging by the silent moping he was doing, and Dean had a feeling that asking him to be put on waitress duty would just make him even less enjoyable to be around. Plus, Dean still wasn’t crazy about the idea of the angel wandering around on his own yet, the aroma of his Omega scent gently assaulting their senses as it spread throughout the room as an ever-present reminder. Sam was neck-deep in research, whether because he was sniffing out a lead, or because he was vehemently trying to ignore the same scent Dean was, Dean could only guess.

Consumed by the swirling nature of his thoughts, Dean was startled back into reality by the loud buzzing of Sam’s phone. It seemed Sam had been in his own world as well, judging by the way his brother nearly flew out of his seat.

Sam shrugged silently, bringing the phone to his ear.

“This is Agent Young.”

Dean and Cas watched closely as Sam listened to the voice on the other end of the line, nodding occasionally and making small noises of understanding. After a few moments, Sam’s eyes lit up in surprise.

“Really?” Sam looked over at his brother, “Yeah. That’s really helpful. Thanks for the heads up, and we’ll definitely follow up on that.”

Dean and Cas looked at Sam expectantly.

“That was Caddel.” Sam started, closing his phone. Dean bristled at the mention of the chief, but waited for his brother to continue. “Said he didn’t have the report yet, but he got a call from the Chief of Police in Independence, who was asking for it as well. Apparently the guy’s trying to collect all related reports from around the area to have them all in one place.”

That got Dean excited. That would be exactly what they needed. Sam seemed to think so too.

“I think we should go.” Sam continued. “Independence's only an hour away. If we left now, we could get there before dark.”

“It would speed things along.” Dean grunted. “Get us out of here sooner.”

“I’m going.”

Dean whipped around at the sound of Cas’ voice, his shoulders tensing as he prepared for the showdown he knew he was about to have. Cas seemed to be thinking the same thing, his cold, steeled gaze meeting Dean’s.

“I refuse to be utterly useless on this case, Dean.” Cas’ glare tightened, his resolve secure, “Despite how much you seem to want me to be.”

Unlucky for him, Dean also had a will of iron.

“It’s not that I think you’re useless, Cas!” Dean countered exasperatedly.  _ Why couldn’t he just fucking understand?  _ “It’s that I think you’re clueless! Do you have any idea how badly you reek right now? Any at all?”

Cas squinted in confusion, although frustration still occupied his gaze. “Well, if I smell bad, why are you so worried?”

Even Sam let out an embittered scoff at that.

That just gave Dean more fuel to the fire. “That’s my point, Cas! You _ don’t _ smell bad, and you just can’t seem to wrap your head around that!”

“But you just said…” 

“I know what I said, Cas.”

Refusing to continue down that line of conversation, Cas just stated again: “I’m going.”

A tense silence fell over the trio, Dean and Cas participating in a staring contest to the death, both parties unwavering. Finally, it was Sam who broke the silence.

“Maybe…” he started carefully, “Cas and I should go.” 

Dean was just about to rip his brother’s head off, but Sam pushed on, silencing Dean with a stern look, “You two have been at each other’s throats all day, and I’m not about to do another two-hour road trip with it. So, I’m just going to put it all out there: Cas, like it or not, you  _ are _ in a vulnerable spot right now, and caution is the most logical, and frankly only, option. Just because it’s like this now doesn’t mean it will be forever. We need to figure out how to work in these new dynamics, and we need to be smart about it. Dean, you know what it’s like to be instantly dismissed for your secondary gender. It pissed you the hell off, and it still does, so maybe ease up on the guy, okay?”

Both Dean and Cas looked away like scolded children, refusing to look at one another, or Sam. But the words got the point across, and both had resigned to the truth of them, even if they wouldn’t actually admit it.

And although Dean didn’t like the idea of Cas out in the field, he liked the idea of Cas being alone in the motel room, without anyone else nearby, less.

“What about--” Dean cut himself off, leaning in closer to his brother, speaking in a quieter tone, hating what he was about to ask, “Are you going to be alright alone with him?”

“Dean--” Sam hissed defensively, his shoulders tensing at the insinuation. “Come on, man!”

Dean, responding to his brother’s reaction, escalated in defense as well, “It’s a fair question!”

Seeming to have made a decision, Cas brushed past Dean and headed for the door, throwing it open without giving the brothers so much as a second glance. Stumbling, Sam shot up, throwing on his suit and grabbing the Impala’s keys from Dean’s jacket. Just as he was about to close the door, he stopped to look at his brother.

“It’ll be fine, Dean.”

Dean nodded curtly, fighting the urge to chase after the angel. “Just watch out for him.”

A thin smile crossed Sam’s face; a soft understanding in his expression. “You know I will.”

_ \------- _

Dean hated feeling like a wife waiting for her husband to return from the war. And, although he trusted his brother, and knew that both of them were more than capable of getting a damn file on their own, his nervous energy wouldn’t allow him to do anything but think about it. He kept stealing a glance at the small digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed, as if meticulously tracking the time and gauging where his brother and Cas were on their drive gave him some sort of control over the situation. 

The next hour crept by slowly, and Dean thought about boiling water. And paint drying. And how neither activity seemed to go anywhere if you were watching it. Dean could say the same for time. Each minute dragged on at a painstakingly slow pace, and by the time they should have been arriving in Independence, Dean felt like it had been years.

Hunched over Sam’s laptop, Dean had exhausted all of his usual distractions, none of which were effective, so he was about to turn on the television when an unexpected knock came at the door. Surprised, Dean reached for his handgun and hid it underneath his shirt, tucking it securely in his pants as he looked through the peephole.

To find the chief on the other side of the door.

Dean groaned in annoyance, taking a moment to compose himself before opening the door.

_ What the hell does this guy want? _

Although, Dean did have some self-control and tact, so he opted for a more appropriate version of the question. Swinging the door open, he glared at the Alpha.

“What?”

The open hostility seemed to throw the chief off for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise momentarily before recalibrating to their former neutrality. Bringing a tight smile to his face, he held out a manilla folder to Dean.

“Wanted to bring the girl’s autopsy report to you and your partner.” the chief stretched his neck, trying to get a look inside the motel room. Dean shifted to obscure the man’s view. Whether because he really didn’t want the guy snooping around, or he just wanted to piss the guy off, he wasn’t sure, but he liked the look of agitation that flashed across the Alpha’s face as he did it. He recovered quickly though, “Is your partner around?”

“He’s in Independence.” Dean responded automatically. Internally, he mentality kicked himself, wondering if he should’ve said something else. But then, just as quickly as the regret came, anger replaced it. He had no reason to lie. He didn’t need to pretend Sam was nearby. He was 100% capable of handling things himself.

The chief nodded, still seeming to be trying to sneak a look inside the room. Carefully, Dean reached for the gun tucked into his pants. He just wanted the guy gone.

"Well… if that’s all…” Dean held out his hand for the folder.

But the chief drew it back. “Are you scared of me?” 

The question had Dean seeing red, and he threw the door open, his hand leaving his weapon to find a home on the doorframe.

“What the hell is there to be scared about?”

The chief shrugged, as if the question were innocent enough. “You tell me. You’re the one who’s been all worked up since we met.” He looked Dean in the eyes, a hint of a challenge behind his own, “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Dean smiled condescendingly. “Doing a damn good job at it.”

Ripping the girl’s report from the chief’s hand, Dean started to slam the door shut. Conversation over. But, to Dean’s surprise, the door didn’t close completely. Instead, it flew open, smacking Dean in the face, his nose exploding in pain at the impact as he fell to the ground.

Reaching up to touch it tenderly, Dean only had a moment to register the excessive amount of blood that covered his hand as he pulled it away to look at it before the chief came barreling into the motel room. Dean only had time to bring his hands up in defense before the chief was crouched above him, growling as a punch landed, and Dean felt the air in his lungs flee him. Leaving him breathless. Then another to the side of his face. Dean tried to kick, desperate and without direction; tried to buck the Alpha off of him, but his mind began to swim as his vision fought off threatening speckles of light.

The Alpha’s weight became crushing as he leaned over Dean, bringing his hands up to coil around his throat.

Dean scratched at the man, choking, “Get… f’koff me…”

The Alpha just leaned in closer, his breath coating Dean’s ear as he hissed.

“You got a hell of a mouth on you. Too bad you don’t have the genes to back it up.”

Another impact, and Dean’s world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get hairy from here! Heed tags as needed.  
> The story is essentially all mapped out, and I'm feeling very inspired. I hope to have another update in about a week!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Non-consensual touching and threats of sexual assault.

_ Dean slowly came to his senses, the haze of sleep still fogging his mind. But it didn’t take him long to pick up on the intense presence next to him. Lazily opening his eyes, he was taken aback by Castiel staring back at him, his dark locks intoxicatingly tangled and skewed over the pillow his head was resting on. Dean had always known the angel’s eyes were blue… but never had he seen them so close. Cas held his gaze, gently watching. The angel was close enough that Dean could feel the soft inhale and exhale of his breathing against his face. _

_ Dean waited a moment before responding, Cas’ attention flustering him more than he would ever admit. “What’re you doing, Cas?” _

_ Cas’ expression didn’t change at the question. Instead, he just examined Dean with the single mindedness of a scientist, but with care. An absolute reservation of judgement. _

_ “Thinking.” _

_ Trying to ignore the dryness in his throat, Dean swallowed subtly, thinking about how childlike the angel looked. It amazed him. For all this knowledge. For all the lifetimes he had existed, Castiel still somehow managed to be one of the most naive beings Dean had ever met. The angel had no idea the effect he had on him, and Dean was going to keep it that way. He didn’t want his feelings to push Cas before he was ready. It was something Dean wanted to watch out for. Something he needed to keep in check. Something he wanted to protect. _

_ “About what?" _

_ Heat rose to Dean’s cheeks as he thought about how close their hands were. How, if Dean were to dare, he could easily reach his hand out and rest it on Castiel’s. Somewhere deep, his stomach fluttered at the thought. _

_ “Were you having a nightmare?” _

_ The question caught Dean off guard, and, for a moment, he considered lying. The haunting images of Hell flashed through his mind. The screaming. The crying. The pain and heat. The anger and rage and regret and shame. But the atmosphere felt warm. Cas felt safe. As if, through the angel’s gaze, the world melted away, leaving just the two of them. The center of gravity. _

_ His voice came out in a whisper. “Yes.” _

_ A frown crossed Cas’ face, his brow furrowing at Dean’s answer, and Dean hated to see that look. Dean gave a quick smile, ready to brush it off, make a joke out of it, but Cas just looked at him solemnly. _

_ “I am sorry.” _

_ Dean wanted that expression to go away. The feeling of being other people’s concern never sat right with him. He had a responsibility to take care of himself. Since he had been a kid, he knew his place. It was his job to take care of others. Not the other way around. If it were the other way around, he wasn’t doing his job. He was nothing but a burden. _

_ “Nothing you can do about it, Cas.” Dean responded gruffly. “Not your problem.” _

_ A look of genuine confusion made its home on Cas’ face, as if Dean’s response was completely outlandish. “Dean, why wouldn’t I watch over you?” _

_ \------- _

When Dean awoke, he quickly wished he hadn’t.

The first thing that hit was the headache. Hard and fast, but dull enough to somehow hurt more than if he had been stabbed. Before Dean even had the chance to open his eyes, a wave of nausea overcame the senses, his head pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He tried to keep his breathing through his nose, as his body began to awaken to the soreness throughout it. Squinting through a fresh wave of pain, he could feel the uncomfortable, but familiar, prickle of dried blood on the side of his face. Confused, Dean tried to open his eyes, the harsh light blinding him instantly, making him choke back a groan as he shifted to block the light.

To find he couldn't move.

_ What the hell? What... _

_ Caddel. _

His eyes shot wide open with a jolt. The reality crashing down on him all at once.

His body tried to follow him as he rose off the bed, only for his shoulders to catch painfully, his wrists pulling him back with a bite. The thudding in his brain transferred to his heart as cold dread overcame him. Resting back down, he arched his neck to look up, finding his wrists handcuffed to the metal headboard. Gripping the link in both hands, Dean gave the cuffs a harsh tug, finding the metal holding true. Letting out a noise of frustration, Dean pulled again, slightly more desperately, but the headboard didn’t so much as bend.

Fighting his rising panic, Dean started to look around him, trying to fill in the gaps in his memory. On Sam’s bed, he could see his and his brother’s fake IDs strewn all over, their weapons littering the comforter. With a chill, Dean recognized even some of their more hidden hand-helds laid out as well, their clips laying uselessly next to them.

Dean steeled his gaze when he found Caddel, who was holding one of Dean’s IDs, grinning in smug, knowing victory.

“So you’re not FBI, huh  _ Dean _ ?” Flicking the card in Dean’s direction, Caddel continued, “Can’t say I’m that surprised.”

Dean refused to answer, instead choosing to give the bar above him another useless tug. Tried to ignore the quickening of his heart, and the smell of fear he knew was starting to permeate.

Caddel watched ambivalently, a hint of amusement flashing behind his eyes as he let Dean fail, again, to break out of its hold, but Dean stayed quiet as he rode out the rage of his helplessness, refusing to let the Alpha have that. The man already looked pleased enough with himself as it was.

Dean gritted his teeth as the chief lazily sauntered over towards him, slowly leaning over the bed. Close enough for Dean to feel choked by his scent. 

“Stay away from me.”

Instead of responding, the Alpha reached out to stroke Dean’s arm, taking his time, as if he knew that his prey was cornered, and had no other choice, and Dean recognized the look. Hunger. And it was then he realized their bareness, the hairs on his arms rising at the touch. Quiet dread coiling in his throat, Dean looked down, finding that his jacket had been discarded, only leaving him in his thin, grey undershirt. A pitiful wave of relief crashed over him when he noticed his jeans were still on, but it was quickly quelled when he saw identical handcuffs locking his ankles to the bottom board of the bed.

He was stuck.

Stealing a look at the clock, his stomach dropped, knowing that his brother and Cas would have just arrived in Independence. Any help he hoped to have was an hour away. Dean tried to train his face, to mask his growing terror as the gravity of the situation slowly started to dawn on him. The Alpha placed a hand gently on his chest, and Dean knew the man could feel it. The rapid beating of his heart confessing his fear. Giving him away.

“You come to my office, my  _ town, _ thinking you can say whatever you want to me.”

Dean hated himself for how his voice wavered, betraying him. 

“Guess I didn’t find anything worth respecting.”

To Dean’s anger, the chief didn’t rise to the bait, his demeanor remaining cool and collected.

“You seem like you’ve been unleashed for awhile.” The chief mused, ignoring Dean’s attempt to shy away. “It feels like a reminder of your place is long overdue.”

Dean forgot how to breathe, his heart seizing as the Alpha sat on the edge of the bed. The man must have caught it, because his face broke out into a cruel, toothy grin. And Dean knew. He’d seen that look before, and it made Dean feel like the scared child he used to be. All the fighting he had thrown himself into blindly, all the training he had dedicated himself to relentlessly, just so that he would never have to be here again. Never have to be utterly helpless again. Never  _ here _ again. Dean tried to center himself, phantom hands crawling all over him.

“You look like you might cry, Dean.” Caddel mocked as he leaned in closer, the mattress creaking accusingly. Dean flinched as the chief shot out and gripped the sides of Dean’s face rough enough to leave bruises. “I’d love to hear it.”

Before Dean had the chance to form a response, the Alpha closed the distance and drew Dean in to a forced kiss, all teeth. Without thinking, Dean gasped in shock, and the chief exploited the opportunity, his fingers digging deeper into the sides of Dean’s face, forcing his jaw open, and Dean could do nothing but thrash against the invasion, trying to rip himself away from the tongue weaving its way into his mouth. The biting pain from the handcuffs cutting into his wrists barely registered as he animalistically fought against them, instinct replacing reason.

But like hell he wouldn’t fight back this time.

As the Alpha’s tongue continued to explore, Dean tried to bide his time. To wait for the right moment, battling his screaming mind to  _ Get. Him. Out. _ Screaming for help. Knowing Cas was just a prayer away. But there was no way. No way that could be allowed to happen. 

The angel flooded his mind and his mind latched onto him, as if scrambling for the comfort his memory could muster. Finding relief in thinking of his eyes. His stupid looks of confusion when he didn’t get the joke. His earnest faith, as ridiculous as it was. His… 

_ Don’t think about Cas. _

Dean screwed his eyes shut when he felt the Alpha’s tongue glaze over the roof of his mouth, and he tried to breathe past the panic, the hand coiled around his throat, tightening as Caddel began to lose himself in his excitement. But in his excitement, he left room for error. And Dean bit down as hard as he could.

Dean had a moment. Just a moment of satisfaction, as the Alpha recoiled with a yelp. And Dean relished the separation. Finally. Caddel brought his hand to his mouth, touching his tongue tenderly, and Dean watched in tense anticipation as the chief registered blood, his eyes contorting from confusion to rage. Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Fucking _ bitch.” _

Ringing assaulted his senses, the side of his face, then his ribs, exploding in pain, the breath being pushed from his lungs, making him choke as he gasped for air. Dazed, Dean tried to raise his arms up to defend himself, turning to the side as he tried to protect himself as best he could. But the assault kept coming. Kept coming to the point where Dean’s temporary confidence whittled to fear.

But the Alpha must have tired himself out, because the blows died down and were replaced by the man’s coarse panting, but Dean still waited to move, not trusting the reprieve, until he saw the chief had gotten off the bed, shaking the strain out of his wrist.

“At least take a girl to dinner first.” Dean got out, his voice rough with fear he couldn’t hide. He spit to his side, the taste of copper building.

Caddel didn’t respond. His gaze was distant, as if he were pondering something far from the motel room. He squinted his eyes, as if mulling over a deep thought. Dean shifted, unease building at the man’s change in demeanor.

Quietly, the Alpha walked to the end of Dean’s bed, looking down at him or, more specifically, the lower half of him, his pupils dilating in thought. Dean tried to pull his knees up; to block his lewd gaze, but it only seemed to encourage the Alpha more, and Dean tried to ignore the tent forming in the Alpha’s pants.

“Once you get past the mouth, you are very pretty.”

The man jerked Dean down the bed, his arms becoming taut as he crawled between his legs. And Dean froze, his mind turning to static as he felt the Alpha’s hardness resting just above his own jeans, feeling like an accusation. Or a promise that he knew the Alpha would deliver on. Lifting Dean by the hips, Caddel shifted himself further underneath Dean, until Dean was resting solidly at the man’s waist, his legs straining as they were spread further apart. Then Dean felt it. An upward roll of the man’s hips. A ghost of a thrust as his hardness pressed more firmly against him.

And Dean fought. Blindly. He kicked, despite his legs catching as the cuffs holding his feet down tightened. He yelled. He bucked, trying to throw the man’s pressing weight off of him. But the Alpha just rode it out, with the detachment of a parent waiting for their child to tire of a tantrum. Because he knew he had the upper hand, and maybe Dean knew it too, which made him fight harder. 

Dean dug his heels into the mattress, trying to wiggle himself away with a ferocity only a trapped animal could muster, hating his fear. But the Alpha just gripped Dean’s waist, pulling him back with an ease, a satisfied bark of laughter ringing out. 

“It is a shame you’re just a Beta,” Caddel hissed, his hand lightly trailing down Dean’s chest, his thumb stopping to stroke absently underneath Dean’s shirt, over his hip bone. “But I promise I can show you a good time.”

And Dean hated the whimper that snuck past his lips.

Caddel slowly reached for Dean’s belt, tugging at it with such ambivalence and detachment, his face giving nothing away, until the belt unclipped, a hint of a smile crossing the Alpha’s face. And Dean could see the relishment. 

He was enjoying himself.

_ No. no. no. no no no no _

“I’m curious, Dean.” The Alpha’s fingers roamed to the button on his jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly. “Boxers or briefs?”


End file.
